


heal over

by ottermo



Series: As Prompted [92]
Category: Humans (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humans Challenge 2019, post series 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23197111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottermo/pseuds/ottermo
Summary: They can hear her. For as long as that's true, there's hope.
Relationships: Leo Elster & Max Elster, Leo Elster & Mia Elster
Series: As Prompted [92]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/360089
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	heal over

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Humans Challenge with the prompt 'Healing'
> 
> As you might be able to tell, I was in the midst of a Stranger Things fixation at the time. This takes place after Season 3.

The cuts on his face are gone by the next morning - all that’s left is a faint throbbing around the newly-knitted skin. Leo frowns into the mirror, agitating the faultlines. Nothing changes. It makes it worse, somehow, that he can look so untouched by a night that had taken everything.

He hears movement outside the door, and turns away from his reflection to open it. “Max?”

His brother is standing there, eyes wide. He’s holding something Leo hasn’t seen in almost a year: the transceiver they had acquired to try and contact Fred, back when they thought there was hope that their brother might use their childhood channels to reach them again. The transceiver is emitting a hissing sound: empty static, the same as it always had, every day until Ten had arrived and his simple, tactless logic had forced them to admit that they were kidding themselves.

It makes sense, Leo thinks, that Max would try and reach out to Fred, today of all days. What doesn’t make sense is the look on his face - not a quiet, wistful hope, but an almost frightened alertness. Leo goes to speak, but Max’s hand shoots up to stop him. He indicates towards the transceiver, message clear. _Just listen_.

The static continues. Leo shifts awkwardly against the doorway, not wanting to state the obvious: Fred is just as gone as he ever was. Mia hasn’t swapped places with him, she hasn’t gone _instead_. She’s just gone _as well_.

If Leo closes his eyes, he can just about picture it still: faded remains of his younger days, huddled over the radio set with Max and listening for Fred’s ‘secret messages’, which were usually clues on where to find him. Usually he’d be somewhere in the grounds, down by the lake or hidden among the trees that lined the boundary of the estate. Once he’d tricked them for hours by describing the view from a window they thought couldn’t possibly exist, until Mia had taken pity, and teasingly reminded them that the attic room had a skylight.

On the rare occasions Mia had joined in the game properly, she was even harder to find than Fred: her clues tended to be more poetic, born from the mind of an artist rather than a strategist. They’d usually enlist Niska to crack the code, and although she’d pretended to huff and resent their childishness, they all knew she enjoyed the challenge, secretly.

Sadly, Leo notes that he can’t truly hear his memories the way she once had - can only rebuild the long-ago voices by imagining how they had sounded… Mia’s voice, scratched with radio waves but soft still, gentle always. “ _Leo? Can you hear me? Over._ ”

Actually, he can remember better than he’d realised. The illusion is good. He opens his eyes again, returns to the present. Max is looking at him expectantly. Leo stares blankly back.

“ _Leo? Max? Do you copy? Over_.”

With a jolt, Leo realises why her voice had come so easily: he hadn’t been remembering. Somehow, impossibly, he’d been hearing.

Max holds down the tab, and pulls the transceiver close. “We can hear you, Mia. Over.”

The static resumes.

Leo steps closer, listening hard. Nothing.

“She can’t hear me,” Max says softly. “I’ve responded every time.”

“But…” Leo’s breath hitches, disbelief and emotion battling for space in his throat. “She’s… she’s somewhere. That’s her, that’s her voice.”

Max nods.

“How?”

It doesn’t matter, and they both know it. Somehow, somewhere, Mia is speaking to them. It means there’s hope. It means she’s out there - perhaps not in her body, but her consciousness is alive.

And so they’ll find her. Like before. Heal this, as well.


End file.
